Taking leave of one's census

Argentina was shut today. It was Census Day, and everybody must have been at home filling in forms, because the shops were all shuttered and the roads were almost empty.

Which was a problem for those of us who hadn't realised, and who depend on shops to buy food from. The hostel did breakfast, but lunch was a challenge. Eventually I found a man selling hot dogs from a stand near Retiro, the main bus and train station.


Dinner was even more of a problem. The 24-hour pharmacy was open, but had its sandwich cabinet closed off with bin bags; is there a law preventing tourists from eating? Is this the Argie equivalent of a state-imposed Ramadan? At least you get dates and tea at dusk in Morocco.

Eventually I found a man selling hot dogs, rather furtively - frankfurtively, presumably - from a shop a few blocks from the hostel.


I don't know what the census position is on people who die on the day of the count. As happened, of course, to Nestor Kirchner, former PM, and husband of the current PM.

The news dominated the telly all day. The channels must have been delighted; with everyone indoors grappling with the form-filling, what else would there have been to cover?